


Transcendence

by taikodragon



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blink and you miss it S8 fixit, Future Fic, M/M, Meditation, Shiro POV, Yogi Shiro, brief very brief mention of [Man], introspective, mention of yoga, reflections
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 09:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20673413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taikodragon/pseuds/taikodragon
Summary: A brief introspection from Shiro's point of view: Shiro has found peace in the years after the Great War.





	Transcendence

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [PiscesDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiscesDragon/pseuds/PiscesDragon), [kulningstones on Twitter](https://twitter.com/kulningstones), and [Yess on Twitter](https://twitter.com/yess2391) for beta-ing this for me. I appreciate it!

The peace that ascends upon him is almost effervescent. Joyful. Bright. 

He breathes in, filling the caverns of his mind as well as the membranes of his lungs with oxygen, with space. Tendrils of Kuron are still there, blended, gently, into the sunshine-brilliance of his own psyche, along with flashes of the iridescent darkness from his time in the astral plane. 

For years, after the great war, he worked on resolving the different parts of him that existed. On weaving the life that Kuron had lived for him in with the solemn silence of an existence that was barely that. It took years of sitting like this, in lotus pose, breathing in the crisp air of evening or the recycled air of the Atlas, to finally find some modicum of peace; some stable, solid, ground.

When he returns to the present, he breathes in again and fills himself once more with the sweetness of the tranquility surrounding him and the purple haze of twilight coloring the desert sky. Unfolding himself and standing, he brushes off any imaginary particles of dirt, shrugs on his tank top, dyed magenta in the last light of the day, and pulls on his Garrison-issued sweats over his boxers.

A red-orange flare in the darkening sky catches his attention. There weren’t any inbound transports scheduled last he knew — and he would know. This one, however, he recognizes as it comes closer, the shape of it familiar. The peace inside him fills with the warmth of a loved one returning home. Time to meet the traveler and welcome him back.

\--------

He’s no stranger to waking up alone, even after pledging his life to the one person in the Universe who fought harder than anyone to bring him back, so when he wakes and there’s a warm body next to his, all goes quiet in his head. He turns and pulls Keith against his front and goes back to sleep, burying his head in the cascade of dark hair and breathing in the musk of male and sex.

The remnants of an unpleasant dream awaken Shiro a second time that morning. In them are visions, images, impressions of some sort of future where things turned out differently. He lays there in the dim light of their shared quarters and remembers. Remembers how things actually happened, as a way to wipe away the unhappiness that invades his sleep. 

When they had returned to Earth with an exhausted Allura, and unresponsive Lions in the belly of the Atlas, it had been with fanfare and excitement. The Garrison was ablaze with activity as they checked on the grandest ship that Earth had ever built, fixing parts that needed it, filling her stores as best they could in preparation for the next journey back in to space, into a story that may have finished its climax, but would never fully end. 

Life returned to some semblance of order again. Day in and day out with paperwork, flight training, and a wedding to prepare for. Shiro was busy from morning until evening — in meetings, planning, and still trying to put himself back together. So when an invite to dinner came, he decided to take it. It wasn’t until later that he realized his mistake. Returning to the Garrison barracks after an evening of tolerable conversation, the man tried to kiss him. Which coincided with Keith rounding the corner of the hallway, with timing imperfect enough to witness the attempt.

Shiro frowned and stepped away from the bridge tech, who apologized and left quickly. Keith disappearing the other way without a word. Shiro remembers not sleeping that night. Or if he did, it wasn’t restful.

It was the next day that Keith had confronted him, hurt defining the hunch of his broad shoulders, creasing the lines of his face. “Why?”

Shiro found himself mesmerized by the curve of Keith’s neck as the realization of what was happening deepened. He chose his next words carefully, “He asked. I didn’t see a reason why not. He was friendly.” 

“Why not? I thought. . . I was waiting. . .” Came the response, sounding like sandpaper against metal.

“Keith.” He stood then from his desk and came around to where Keith was standing, shoulders sagging. “You called me your brother.”

“Of course I did! We were, are, family!” Shiro watched Keith as he spoke, his body bracing itself for whatever he was going to say next. “But. . . I also said I love you.” 

Eyes like flaring violet supernovas met his, determination blazing through them, and Keith continued, “Would you consider me instead?”

Shiro has seen galaxies most people on Earth never even dreamed of. Watched both sun and moon rise on a few dozen planets. He has flown the Black Lion, and existed in her for over a year. He has experienced life — has experienced death, love, and hate. Yet in this moment, the culmination of everything he has done, and everything he would do, could change. All of it, down to this moment. The awareness of it flared through him, through the vestiges of who he was, who he had been, and everything in between.

“I. . . didn’t think you were interested?” Is all Shiro could get out, inundated with the realization inside him.

“Shiro. It’s always been you. And it always will be.”

Years later, warm in the bed he chose to make, he finally feels the urge of his body to get up and carefully disentangles his limbs from Keith’s. He uses the facilities, brushes his teeth, combs the beard that Keith grouses about, pulls on his boxers and a loose t-shirt before shuffling out to the kitchenette and starting the process of making his morning brew. 

Both hands brace against the counter, one flesh, the other an updated, streamlined model of his last prosthesis.. The quiet burbling sound of the coffee maker lulls him into closing his eyes and he loses track of time dozing, until a pair of arms wind their way around his waist and a press of lips to his shoulder bring him back. He hums in acknowledgement and Keith rumbles a question against his back, “You okay?”

He moves his flesh hand and grips at the arms belted around his midsection, remembering all the realities that might have been, “Yeah. I’m right where I want to be.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://taikodragon.tumblr.com/), [Twitter](https://twitter.com/TaikoDragonjkf), [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/taikodragon) and [Dreamwidth](https://taikodragon.dreamwidth.org/).


End file.
